


a promise wrought in flame

by tonguetide



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, Promises, Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24140011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonguetide/pseuds/tonguetide
Summary: Zuko makes a promise to his mother and the world tries to make him break it.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Lu Ten & Zuko, Ozai & Zuko (Avatar), Ursa & Zuko (Avatar), Zuko & The Fire Nation (Avatar)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 438





	a promise wrought in flame

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic so bear with me!
> 
> It's pretty much compliant with the show. I've never read the comics but I picked and chose certain aspects of them that I wanted to include. Some of the details concerning timing / ages / etc. may be a little off; I didn't research too heavily:) 
> 
> Hope you like it! :)

He is 6 years old. 

That’s a young age, he thinks, to be making such mature decisions. 

His entire life spans before him. But tonight it’s dark, and the most important person in his life is with him. His head lies in her lap. 

So he decides to give her the world. 

(He’s a Prince. He can do that.)

They’re sitting in his chambers. It’s late. He’s tired. But he doesn't want to sleep. He doesn’t like sleeping because sleep doesn’t always promise dreams. When there _are_ dreams, he loves it. But the risk of nightmares is too great. And when there’s neither it’s just a waste of time. 

“What do you want, most of all?” he whispers to his mother. 

Her gentle ministrations in his hair stop. She smiles softly, leaning over him. “I can give it to you, you know,” he says matter-of-factly, “because I’m a Prince.”

She just kisses his forehead. 

“What do you want the most?” he prods. 

“You, Zuko,” she murmurs. 

He scrunches his features. “You could choose _anything_ in the world and you’d pick me?”

She laughs. The sound is soft and loving and he’s closer to sleep than he wants to be. He’s 6, after all. He can stay up late. “Yes,” she says.

“But _why_? Don’t you want to have,” he lowers his voice to a whisper, “a _dragon_?” Lowers it even further, “Or meet a different bender?”

Her hand moves again through his hair. Sifts through the strands. “No,” she responds. “I’m perfectly happy with you.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because I love you,” she says, then drops her voice as well, “more than any dragons or any benders I could ever meet.”

It’s a lame answer, he thinks. He’s only 6 and even _he_ knows that there’s cooler stuff to see in the world. Legends of dragons. More people to meet. Even if they’re not as good as Firebenders. 

So, as compensation, right before he fades to sleep, he promises himself, _I’ll get her the world._

And to a 6 year old, that’s the best promise you can make.

* * *

His sister says that he’s met his cousin before, when they were really young. That he’d then gone off to fight with his uncle and never once looked back. She says he’s the paragon of a soldier. Serious and strong and an amazing bender. “He won’t like you,” Azula adds offhandedly. Zuko doesn’t speak to her the rest of the day. 

He doesn’t remember Lu Ten when he returns to the Palace. But he remembers Iroh, and when Ozai turns his back to speak with a General, Zuko rushes to hug him. 

His Uncle is the strongest man he’s ever seen, but he completely softens against his nephew’s small, wiry form. “Hello Prince Zuko,” he whispers. 

He misses the soft smile his mother and Iroh exchange. Ozai turns around and Azula greets her Uncle with a formal bow. Ozai approves. 

Lu Ten looks like Azula described him. At dinner his posture is stiff and submissive, humble and respectful. His manners are cold and polished; his expression severe. 

But as Zuko heads to his chambers that night, he glimpses his cousin half bent over in laughter. Iroh stands next to him, hand on his shoulder, trying to quiet him while stifling his own laughter as well. Zuko furrows his eyebrows. This is a different person than had been at dinner.

And it makes Zuko wonder. What Lu Ten is like. What having a brother is like. What seeing your father laugh is like. 

The next day Zuko trains in the courtyard. His bending isn’t nearly as good as Azula’s and today he’s especially frustrated by it. The Sages are harsh and unforgiving and when he makes his ninth mistake he storms back inside. He’ll regret it later, he knows, but he can’t stand to be around them longer. 

He meets Lu Ten in the corridor. He’s 15, eight years Zuko’s senior, and shows every inch of it. Zuko has to look up to meet his eye. 

He brings his fists together and gives a clumsy bow. Lu Ten smiles a little before returning it. 

“I thought you had a lesson right now. Where are you off to?” 

Heat rises in Zuko’s face. “I was just...well, I--”

“Don’t worry,” Lu Ten says. “I won’t tell.”

Zuko fights the urge to rub the back of his neck. He forces himself to meet his cousin’s eyes. “I left my lesson,” he admits. 

“Why?”

He mumbles something unintelligible along the lines of _I hate every single one of my Masters_ and tries not to fear retribution. 

Lu Ten may not understand exactly but he understands enough. He hesitates, then gestures over his shoulder. “I was heading out to train. But I’m going alone. Maybe I could help you with your forms?”

They spend hours in a hidden part of the Gardens. Lu Ten corrects Zuko’s form and Zuko feels more confident about his bending than he ever has. There’s no trace of the boy who was so tense at dinner last night. 

He wonders why. And since he hasn’t learned to filter his words yet -- that lesson will only be taught with fire -- he asks. 

“Do you not like my father?”

Lu Ten stiffens, drops his arms to his sides. They’d just finished another set and the sun was dipping beneath the rooftops, giving everything a golden glow. “Why do you ask?”

“You were so different at dinner,” he says plainly.

His cousin’s posture loosens a little. He seems relieved. Zuko doesn’t know why. “Respect is everything,” he says, eyes serious and looking straight into Zuko’s. “But different people understand respect differently. Sometimes you have to change how you act to show people you respect them.”

Zuko furrows his eyebrows. “Why do you have to change?”

“Well, if I acted mean and cold around you then you’d think I didn’t like you, wouldn’t you?” Zuko nods. “And if I acted like this around your sister, she’d think less of me.”

“But you’re older than us,” he argues. “You’re going to be Fire Lord one day. Why do you care what we think?”

He wipes ashes from a bench and sits down. Zuko sits next to him. “It’s like this,” he starts. “You’re really similar to your mother and my father. You’re okay when I relax around you. So are they. But your sister gets offended. She wants to see the soldier in me, so I show it to her. Your father and his Generals are the same way.” He pauses like he’s going to say something more, then shakes his head. “Does that make sense?”

He understands now. At dinner that night he watches his cousin closely and when no one else is looking Lu Ten winks at him. For the first time he thinks his sister is wrong. The realization opens a lot of doors for thought. 

He’s sad when Iroh and Lu Ten announce their plans to leave. The Palace can get boring with no one his age around. Azula has her friends but they don’t really interact with him. She keeps them distanced. “For their sake,” she tells him. 

He tells himself she’s lying. She lied before, about Lu Ten. He doesn’t trust anything she says anymore. 

Iroh teaches him something the night before he leaves. 

“Come here, Prince Zuko.” 

Azula sits alone in the far corner of the room, trying to make her flames blue. They’d been working on it all week. Zuko could barely maintain a flame, let alone change its color. 

His mother and Lu Ten speak in soft voices. They still sit at the table, though their meal has long ended. 

So he stands and moves toward his Uncle. 

He’s hovering over a desk. A blank piece of parchment lies in front of him. He smiles as Zuko approaches. “Yes, Uncle?”

“I want to teach you something before we leave,” he says, voice still a whisper though they’re long out of earshot of their company. “An age old Fire Nation tradition.”

“What?”

“When you have something to say to someone who’s not with you, you write them a letter.” He dips his quill in the ink and begins writing at the top of the page: _Prince Zuko_. 

Zuko furrows his eyebrows. “I’ve done this before,” he says flatly. 

His Uncle doesn’t respond, just keeps writing. _We will miss you when we are gone. The time has passed too quickly. We will see you again soon_. Zuko fidgets. Iroh writes slow and standing there in silence is awkward.

When finally finished, he rolls it up tightly and wraps it in a red ribbon. Then he hands it to Zuko. 

“That’s all?” Zuko asks. “It’s a letter. You give it to a messenger hawk.”

Iroh shakes his head gently. “No, Prince Zuko.” His voice drops further and Zuko’s surprised he can still hear. “Open your window and throw this into the night. Then set it on fire.”

“Why?” Zuko asks, eyebrows drawn. He’ll later learn not to question his Uncle’s advice but for now the relationship is too new. 

“Before messenger hawks or any fast post, our ancestors had to communicate when they were feeling something strong. The ashes of the letter go into the night, Prince Zuko. Whoever the letter is addressed to will feel the sentiments of it’s content.”

Zuko’s eyes widen a little. “Really?” he asks. 

He doesn’t burn the letter that night. He doesn’t want to mess up, in case his flame is too weak. So he tucks it safely away for when he’s more sure of his bending. 

The next morning Lu Ten and Iroh are gone. He won’t see his uncle for a long time, but he’ll never see his cousin again. 

* * *

Time improves his bending. His teachers aren’t nicer, but he grows thicker skin. Azula’s better than him, though. She always is. 

They grow farther apart with each year. He thinks it makes his mother sad. He wishes he could promise her they’d be closer. 

He doesn’t. It’d be a lie, and even at age eight he knows it. 

* * *

When he turns nine he thinks his father’s forgotten his birthday. Azula tells him that she’d been given a golden hair comb for her’s. He’s given two scheduled training sessions. He’s hurt, because he loves his father, but he pushes the hurt down. 

His love for his father spawns from fear, and he’ll later learn that’s no foundation for a relationship. 

His mother visits him after the second session. She hasn’t forgotten, at least. She gives him a pocket-sized painting of the two of them together. They sit in shade next to the Garden’s pond and talk about trifles. 

He loves his mother more than anyone in the world. 

Iroh sends him a silver dagger. He hides it from Azula. He hides it from everyone, in fact, because a hawk had delivered it directly to his window. No one ever knows about it. 

But hiding it reminds him of his hidden letter. He’d forgotten about it. He pulls it out from behind a painting on his wall.

It's gathered dust from being ignored for so long. He doesn’t untie the ribbon. Just throws open his window, leans his head out, and wonders if this is stupid. Maybe it was just a story for a kid. He’s older now. Maybe his Uncle wouldn’t have shared it with him at this age. 

But he does it anyway because he _wants_ it to be true. 

He throws it straight above his head and hurries to shoot it with fire. It lights up in the otherwise black night sky. He holds his fire until his arm gets tired and then he drops it to his side. 

The ashes, held up by the flame, disperse on the wind at once. A calm spreads slowly outwards from his chest. He takes a deep breath, wondering if it’s a fluke, but the presence only spreads, heavy like a blanket. 

After that he loves his Uncle even more. More importantly, he trusts him. 

* * *

Word comes that Lu Ten is dead. His father is less reserved than usual at the dinner table that night. He invites three Generals who laugh and call Zuko’s cousin “reckless.” They call Iroh soft. Azula glances at Zuko smugly and knowingly, and Zuko doesn’t understand anything that’s going on. 

His mother is quieter than usual. She doesn’t speak once during the meal unless Ozai speaks to her directly. Even then, her answers are as short as possible. 

When Zuko glimpses water in her eyes before it’s quickly blinked away, he realizes that she’s doing what Lu Ten told him about. She’s acting. For Ozai. So even though he wants to cry he straightens his back and pushes back his shoulders. Azula rolls her eyes at him. 

His head has barely hit the pillow before the tears escape. He wishes, not for the first time, that he was Iroh’s son instead of Ozai’s.

* * *

Iroh calls off the siege of Ba Sing Se and Ozai’s entire mood shifts. He’s eager. Impatient. Violent.

Azula trails him. She wants to be as strong as him one day, she says. 

Zuko avoids him. He wants to be as strong as his Uncle, but he doesn’t say it. 

* * *

He wakes up one morning shaking from a nightmare. His skin is pale and clammy and he bolts upright. It’d been about his mother. He needs to find her now. 

Piece by piece he understands that it wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. 

Nothing is ever the same again. 

* * *

Every night he thinks about burning a letter to her. He wants her to know that he misses her. That he wants her to come back. 

But he’s _angry_. His father tells him that she left them of her own choice and Zuko believes him. Azula tells him she left because she hated him, but he tells himself she’s lying. Azula’s always lying. Ozai wouldn’t lie. He must be right.

He doesn’t write a letter. 

* * *

He can’t sleep. Power has made his father worse. And he’s bitter about Ursa’s absence, Zuko knows. Ozai can’t stand mention of her. 

Wind rustles through the open window, tousling his hair, and it feels like the ghost of her hand. The breeze is cold but it’s worth it for the feeling. Every few minutes he lights a flame to keep himself warm. 

His bending has only worsened since she left. He can’t focus on his lessons. Can’t understand why she’d leave. If she were here she would encourage him in his lessons. Teach him to be patient. Guide him through the burden of a Crown Prince’s responsibilities.

He misses her. He misses Lu Ten, though he can’t remember much about him anymore. He misses Iroh.

He doesn’t think he can be Fire Lord.

* * *

Zuko’s skin is thick. He learns to take Azula’s taunts, his father’s insults, the appraising glares of Ozai’s Generals. 

He stores them in his heart because he hasn’t learned to let them go. He can take and take and take, but in order to relieve the painful pressure, he gives it back in turn. 

Only he doesn’t give it to his sister or his father or his Generals. 

He gives it to people below him. People who can’t do anything about it. It makes him feel powerful. He taunts and insults and glares and it masks the hurt he feels. 

Azula likes him more like that. She tries to bring it out in him. Eventually he lets her have it, too. They fight more than they ever have. Ozai despises him for it. 

Servants learn to fear him as they fear his father. One of the Generals tells Ozai it will make him a good leader. Ozai waves him off. “Just hope he dies before me so he never has to rule this country,” he says. 

Zuko doesn’t hear him but Azula does. She tells him and Zuko’s furious for the next week.

She laughs.

* * *

The day of Iroh’s unexpected return is one of the best of his life. He hasn’t smiled in months but that day he doesn’t stop smiling at all. Iroh looks different -- _much_ different -- but it only adds to Zuko’s good humor. He’s still the strongest man alive, even if it is under layers of...cushion. 

Iroh stays for a long time. He comes to watch Zuko’s lessons. Eventually, he takes over his training. 

Zuko learns more in the three months under Iroh than in years with the Fire Sages. 

And, again, he wonders how life would be if he was Iroh’s son.

* * *

He’s banished and he promises his father the Avatar. 

He _loves_ him. He would do anything for him. As they set sail he tells Iroh this repeatedly. 

_I would do anything for my father._

But he would never promise him the world. 

* * *

Zuko learns patience from his Uncle. Actually, he learns patience _with_ his Uncle first. Then he learns to apply it to other people. He learns that wisdom comes from experience, and that forgiving yourself is harder than forgiving others. He learns that even heroes have screwed up. That even monsters have histories. 

He learns that even liars tell the truth sometimes. It makes him wonder about Azula. It makes him listen to her. He learns to not just listen to respond, but to understand. It takes time, but he understands her.

He learns that treating people the right way is more important than being treated the right way. That when he’s kind, he’s happier, even if he’s mistreated. That he wants to breed joy, not animosity. 

He learns that kids are too young to have to save the world but that their youth is what made it so significant. That courage is standing up for what you believe, next to who you love, no matter your audience. That love needn’t be limited to blood. That you can find family in friends. 

In that short, one-year period, he learns more than he has his entire life. 

When it’s over, he’s tired and anxious for the future. He misses his mother. But he’s hopeful. 

Standing next to the Avatar in front of people from all over the world, he doesn’t wonder about anything. He just believes. 

* * *

It’s when he’s quietly retired to his chambers and the noise outside the Palace fades that he can finally breathe. He pulls out a picture from his pocket that he’s had since a birthday long ago. He’s alone like he has been so many times in this room, but for the first time since his mother left he doesn’t feel loneliness’ crushing weight on his chest. 

He hopes she doesn’t, either. 

And he composes a letter. 

_Mom,_

_Not a single day passes I don’t think of you. You taught me everything I know. How to love. How to sacrifice. How to stand up for what is right._

_I hope I’ve made you proud. I’ll find you someday soon._

_A long time ago I asked you a question and then made you a promise. You won’t remember because I didn’t say it aloud._

_I promised you the world, Mom, and here it is. I’m desperate to find you but for now this will do._

_You taught me what peace was in a time I had none. I give you the world’s peace now._

_Zuko_

He ties the scroll with a bright red ribbon, rises from his desk, and throws the window open. The sounds of the festival float up to his ears. He smiles because the Fire Nation hasn’t heard music like this in forever. Aang is down there somewhere, at the heart of the celebration. Likely egging everyone on. If he has anything to say about it, the party will last until morning. 

He takes a deep breath of the fresh air. The breeze is soft tonight. Not like his memories from childhood. A blanket around him. Everything seems to be like that lately. Working for him, not against him. He’s grateful. He’s optimistic. Things will be hard, but they’ll only rise from here. 

As tradition dictates he leans into the night, throws the scroll straight up, and sets it aflame. The wind carries the ashes far, far beyond the light.

He leaves the window open, like he used to. He sleeps better than he ever has. 

And somewhere, a mother’s heart is softened. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Criticism or anything of the sort is VERY welcome -- I want to get better! Hope you liked it and thank you for reading:)


End file.
